


Saturated.

by IridescentThoughts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Au where bucky and his children all are under Hydra, Blood and violence but i dont think its enough for the archive tag, Bucky has twins, CACW spoilers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Hinted Stucky, Multi, Purely familial relationships, Reader and Bucky is a familial relationship, Reader is gender neutral, bucky and steve are like parents to the twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6046609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IridescentThoughts/pseuds/IridescentThoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Barnes family is stained in blood. A father who carries out commands, a child who is weak in the eyes of others, a brother who is calculating. The blond haired man cares though— he is the glue that brings their family together. Red is not bad, neither is blood.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>Alternativley: Bucky has twin children who are raised in the HYDRA mindset and environment with him. Steve cares and wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short quick-write i wanted to get out before working on the next few chapters of my multi-chap fics. 
> 
> This is an AU that Bucky and his wife conceived children before he left for war. Bucky never gets to meet his children until Hydra rears its ugly head and makes him take them to become trained like him.

His hands are weathered, worn, and calloused. Early mornings at the docks, late nights at the diner. Hands toughened by the harsh rope burns, burnt by the stove, oven, anything burning in the kitchen. Hands bloodied by the guts of fish, nicked by the sharp blades he holds clumsily. The sniper rifle weighs heavy in his hands adding invisible blood; the knife sinks into the skin and dyes his hands such a deep red it never leaves. One hand is a beautiful shade of his skin; the other is the heavy metallic, his fingers whir and click. Both hands are gentle, both of his hands hold you.

He whispers to you that he’s not himself anymore, not the father he wanted to be. Not the father he never knew he would be, not the man he was before. He is not the father that sunk the blade into your mother, not the father that obeyed commands. Not the father that held his own crying children and brought them back to the very people that destroyed him, during the war and after. He is most definitely not the father of bubbling baby twins, not the father of killers either.

Your feet are wobbly, offset and weak. Knees connected but not strong enough to hold you. Knees that pop out of place, kneecaps that fracture. Your knees do shatter after you fall, broken to much, too long to heal. One leg replaced all the way up to your pelvic bone, the other to the faulty knee. The blazing red star dons both of your knees, your feet slowly soaking in all the blood they stand in. Your legs whir and click like your father's arm, they groan and sob— _please let this end._

Your brother is whole, all his limbs. He is perfect and stable. He does not whir or click, does not groan or sob. His entire being is stained by the saturated blood. A large red star on his uniform. He is the specimen you wish to be, does not hesitate or question. Carries out demands and does not succumb to weaknesses. He locks his emotions away and simply carries out. He looks at you with the weakness you know he sees. The distaste hangs on tongue and lingers in his throat. He can’t change he preaches to you— _he can’t change from something he learned was right._

The man with blond hair says he cares. Says he wants to help, rescue you all. His eyes are weepy and linger with want. Nostalgia creeps over him and rushes like waves, every waking moment he tries. Vain creeps up his bones and begs for him to stop. You can tell he wishes for the past, the guise he prefers. In reality he just wants whatever form of his friend he can have. He cares not about the blood, cares not about the scars. He smiles at the three of you and sings praises about having his family back, even if it has additional members now. He cares that he has a family now, he does not want to relive the past, just wants to move on with it. He corners you and your brother and cradles the blood smothered past— _welcome home._

Home is nice. Home is not a place or thing, home is the people. The blood seems a little less saturated, a little less muddled and deep. The dye seems to wash off, even if it crawls back occasionally. Hands seems to grow normal. Legs don’t groan and sob as often. Perfect wears away, chipping at the brutality. Words grow true, praises grow okay. Family becomes a common word, heavy and weighted the word means something. Red seeps into the ground and away from your family. Red is the color of everyone, blood the substance. Family helps you understand that red is okay, blood is okay. You can’t help but think— _red is the color of blood, blood that runs in my veins, my enemies, and my family. Red is not as bad, blood isn’t saturated in death anymore._


	2. Innocence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reflection on the day the twins were kidnapped.
> 
> Christmas in the 21st century as the Barnes are slowly coming to terms with their new lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must really hate myself for adding a new series to my already two. 
> 
> This series is a bit of an experiment for me, I want some chapters to be purely things from Hydra days and also 21st century. It's not in any certain MCU timeline so that gives me freewill but also makes it a bit tougher. 
> 
> Also there is totally side Stucky bcs im trash. Plus Steve would most definitely help Bucky with the kids, even if they are grown adults. 
> 
> I might also make some chapters in James' pov so you can get to know him better along with Reader.

_The woman with the ruby lips and nails smiles at her roommate. “Are you sure you’ll be fine by yourself with the kids while I’m at work.” She pauses and looks over to the couch, twin children perched on the couch. “There have been a series are break ins recently.”_

_The other woman snorts and hands her friend the purse. “Go ahead Peg, We’ll be fine.”_

_Peg bites her bottom lip nervously and clutches her friends hands. “It’s just after…”_

_Laughing again the woman frees her hands and pushes her friend out the door. “Peggy, I’m fine, seriously. Now go on ahead!”_

_Reluctantly the woman with the matching nails and lips leaves the apartment. Later that night when she returns her face pales in horror. The woman she had grown close to and considered her friend laid deceased upon the ground, a knife sticking from her chest and a pool surrounding her. The apartment is turned on it’s head, chairs flipped, cables yanked from the walls. Rushing in Peggy frantically searches for the two young children she had also left there this morning, however there was no trace of them at all. In the bedroom the large bed is flipped completely onto its side, part of it shattering the glass window. Gaping in horror at the scene she rushes to find a phone._

\-----

The minimal ticking of the clock hanging from the wall drowns out the commotion. Loud music blares some misshapen tune in the background as you tune it out. Large lights twinkle in the distance, your eyes focusing then falling out of focus. Bright colors line the floor under the pine tree, the tree causing the place to swell with a pine scent. A sudden crash into the back of your form brings you from your haze. Glancing back you see the chest of Steve, moving your eyeline up you nod towards him and move from his path.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay being here?” His hand is placed gently onto your shoulder. “Tony wanted us all here for Christmas and well, you are included in all of us now.”

Shaking your head you let out a brief smile. “I’m fine, Steve.” You move your eyesight around the open area. “I do have to say this is a lot more than I expected. Then again this is Stark…” You glance back at him again. “Have you seen James? He was supposed to be back from that mission already.”

He shakes his head. “No, not yet.” He tightens his grip on your shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll show up eventually. He told he doesn’t want to miss anymore important family holidays.”

A small snort escapes you as you roll your eyes. “Are we sure he didn’t get a concussion after you contained him?”

A brief shadow dances across Steve’s eyes before he smiles. “Thankfully no, I just think he’s adjusting better than any of us could have expected.”

Your eyes flicker back over to the giant tree in front of the skyline. “Yeah, adjusting.”

\-----

Tony bumbles around the tree and grabs a small box. Grinning he stands and strides towards you, holding out the box. Raising an eyebrow you gently receive the box before opening it. Pulling out the stapled packet inside you could’ve sworn the only thing keeping you from socking him in the face was the fact that this was a family holiday. “Stark why the fuck is this a coupon booklet that says ‘free tune-up’ on every single one?”

He waves his arms around fluidly as he speaks. “Well considering you are now a resident tin-man and need regular tune-ups I decided to give you some for free.”

“Stark I swear to god you have the shittiest humor ever.” You lean forward and grab an ink pen from the table. Scribbling out the top card you quickly write down ‘one free punch to Stark’s face’ and cap the pen. Ripping off the top care you grin and hand it to him. “I like this better.”

“I was just joking!” He raises his hands in defense. “Your real present hasn’t gotten here yet.”

“Huh?” Your eyebrow arches in confusion but the look it wiped off your face when you hear the ding of an elevator. Looking at him in astonishment you slowly form words. “How did you? That’s not who I think-.”

He cuts you off by shoving you forward to the elevator. Grinning in joy your bare feet take you in quick sprints to the elevator, plates whirring and clicking all the way. On Christmas Eve it was clear to you all that James’ mission was running over, a reality that you didn’t want. The doors slide apart and there he stands. His short hair is mussed, tactical gear still clinging to his form, a cut is closed with a butterfly band-aid over his right eye, overall he looks like hell.

“James!” To everyone in the room you had never made a yell that loud in the time they known you. Besides maybe the time that Clint dropped out of the ceiling behind you.

The bag carried haphazardly in his arms is dropped as he opens them, preparing himself for the full force of your body being thrown into them. Closing his arms around you he hugs you tightly, his nose nuzzling into your neck. “Hey kiddo.”

“James, you realize you’re only five minutes older than me?”

“Yep, I wouldn't call you kiddo for any other reason.”

\-----

The elevator dings as James and you step off of it, walking the small distance to the living space of your families shared floor. Flipping yourself over the back of the couch you groan and bury yourself in the blanket resting on it. James’ feet patter off in the background to the kitchen, probably to get a drink. A door clacking in the background and the noise of more feet causes you to raise your head. Your gaze lands on the long, brunette haired male. Sweatpants hang off his hips and a black t-shirt clings to his chest.

“Hey, you feeling better?” You rest your chin on your arm looking at the male.

He nods and motions back towards the room he came from. “Steve came back a while before you two did to check on me.” His voice sounds gruffer than usual, probably from just waking up.

James peeks from around the kitchen corner, a water bottle gripped in his right hand. “Hey.”

Another nod before the long haired male ventures into the kitchen and grumbles along his way to the fridge. “When did you get back?”

James leans against the wall and opens the water. “A little while ago. Stark managed to get me out early to surprise this loser.” He nods your way.

The other male looks up from the fridge slightly surprised. “Stark did?”

James nods and takes a sip from his water before capping it. “You should’ve been there.”

“Sorry,” The other male grips the fridge handle tightly. “I just haven’t been feeling the best lately.”

James’ eyes darken slightly but he nods. “I understand.”

You rolls off the couch and sluggishly begin your journey to join them in the kitchen. “There’s always next year.” You smile and leans against the wall beside James. “It can’t be our first year together until it actually happens, dad.”

Bucky closes the fridge, a water held in his left hand, his right still gripping the handle. “Yeah, you’re right.”

\-----

About and hour later Steve emerges from the bedroom donning a white t-shirt and a pair sweatpants. Smiling at the image of all three Barnes sitting on the couch he walked over and leaned over the back of it. Glancing up at the tree in the corner of the living area he notices the small collection of boxes underneath it.

“When did this happen?” He walks around and sits down on the couch.

Bucky smiles and nods towards his twin children. “They did it while you were asleep. I just wrote the tags.”

Steve chuckles and grabs the remote, switching the channel to the christmas music channel. “Who’s ready to open some presents?”

James and you share as grin as your stand and walk to the tree, sitting in front of it you both begin to grab presents and hand them out. Both males on the couch accept the presents gratefully and slowly begin to open them. Almost in unison they both freeze as they grab the mugs inside and hold them while reading them.

“Why the hell does my mug say ‘#1 Mom’?” Bucky raises an eyebrow and and stares at both his children.

Steve laughs loudly and shows his to Bucky. “Hi mom, I’m dad.”

The living room erupts into yells and laughter over Steve’s joke. Continuing with the small event more presents are passed out and received. Soon the evening was drawing to a close and all of you sat on the couch, a blanket draped over all of your laps. The tv blasted classic movies in the background and the family continued to goof off.

Leaning against your father's shoulder you smile. “Love you.”

An arm wraps around the back of the sofa. “Pretty sure I love you more.”

You snort and grin at him. “Whatever mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave your thoughts and anything else in the comments!


	3. One, Two, Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hydra memories are relived.
> 
> Oh yeah, and that whole thing about:
> 
> Who is [Name]? What have I done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bumped up the rating to mature because I realized this is going on a darker side of thing with psychological statuses, brainwashing and HYDRA background. Also blood and violence but I don't think my descriptions are that graphic so I'm not using the archive warning (yet). 
> 
> Also in the chapter Bucky, James, and Reader are all referred to as One, Two, and Three. This is the way HYDRA refers to then, and how they refer to each other. Bucky is One, James Two, Reader Three. All short for Asset number one and so forth. 
> 
> Reader also reacts the way they do towards being called their name because of HYDRA's manipulation. They feel like their old self was a terrible human being but HYDRA is safe, will protect them, that they are doing what is right. The handler breaks them down with harsh words but builds back up by giving them the missions they think they are carrying out foe the good of humanity.
> 
> Also that bathtub scene is really something, and Reader has long hair because it's a Barnes family tradition. Just kidding but they seriously wouldn't have time for haircuts in HYDRA unless specified by a mission. Reader just hasn't cut it off like Bucky and unlike James who has short hair in the present.

_The screaming is shrill in your ears, ringing loudly into your eardrums. The male standing beside you on the building top begins to walk away, his footsteps quiet but heavy all at the same time. Your eyes are narrowed in on the commotion in the streets below. Screams shatter the air along with sirens and wailing. Blood runs crimson down the street, smoke clouding up and blocking some of the scene._

_“We’re leaving.” The male's voice is stern and clear._

_Your knee plates shift as you push yourself to your feet. The metal acting as the bottoms of your feet scraping against the concrete. Steadying yourself and grappling with the bag carrying extra supplies your own footsteps join in silence with his. The mask on your face seems heavier than usual with the smoke finally reaching the rooftop and billowing around. Grunting in dissatisfaction adept hands brush back the greasy strands of hair from your face._

_“Rendezvous is in an hour. I’m going to go after Two, you go ahead.” The male flashes a quick look in your direction, it is pointless however as the mask and goggles he wears block his face._

_You nod anyway before opening a trash shoot on the roof and grabbing the explosive from the bag, setting the trigger before jamming it down the shoot. Turning around your companion is gone, no trace left in the cloudy air. Your legs make quick work across the building top, plates whir and shift as you launch yourself across onto another building. Landing smoothly you continue to flee deeper into the thick fog of smoke._

_\-----_

_The building is tall and impressive, however extremely hollow and dingy on the inside. The only reason to come is for communication with the handler. The drizzle and overcast sky seem to all but predict the mood set earlier in the city. Entering the building a loud thumping noise heightens your senses immediately. Pressing your back to the wall and smoothly ejecting the knife from your belt you skulk around in the deep shadows. Turning a corner you notice two males donning an identical uniform to your own minus a few different things on each uniform. You lower the weapon but still keep a grip on it as you enter the musty room._

_“Three is here.” The one with slightly shorter hair mumbles to his companion without turning around. A coil is attached to a receiver you can only assume is directed to the handler._

_“Stand down, Two.” A charismatic voice oozes into the room, no matter how smooth it is it still flips your stomach and covers your body in fear. Your feet patter against the concrete floor to the two males._

_“Please indulge me in the reason of your late arrival?” The handler eases into the room, shoes clacking against the floor. His face is twisted into an unpleasant smirk and your body almost shakes from pure fear._

_As if water gushing from a waterfall words tumble out, “I got lost.”_

_He grins and advances on you, his stalk making the room shrink by the minute. “Lost? Why don't you tell me the real reason, [Name]?”_

_Electricity courses through your veins and shuts down your entire body. Violent convulsions take over and your pupils dilate, your mouth gaping open. “Stop.”_

_“[Name].” His voice is still oozing charisma._

_“Stop,” the low murmur rips raw through your throat. The feeling spreads like wildfire across your body, blossoming in patches. A loud siren wails in your head along with the loud grating noise of a rotary saw. “I’m not them.”_

_“Then who are you?” His words drip sarcasm._

_“Three,” you wail in pain and white pain sears across your vision. “[Name] is a bad person. I am Three.”_

_“Worthless.” His grumbling is loud enough to hear as he directs his attention to the males. “The extraction team will be here tomorrow. In the meanwhile take care of your disaster.” His feet clack away as your body slips to its knees._

_Arms grip under your arms and drag you back to you feet. Feet pound against the floor as the noises still ring in your ears. Your body is laid in a corner of the room, the male who dragged you over you recognize through bleary tinted vision as One. His visage, identical to your own, peers down at you. He grunts before stalking back over to Two._

_Two’s mask is removed and laying on the table, the only piece of furniture in the room. “You have undoubtedly ruined yourself.” He turns his back and leans against the table, staring out the window. The drizzle now a torrential downpour, sight becoming near impossible._

\-----

The bloody water surrounds your body, tinting the skin red. The long and deep gash across your arm dropping more and more crimson into the once pure water. The diluted iron scent coats your senses and sends them into a fury as your gaze still looms into the reflective surface of the water. Long strands of hair dip into the water as your head shifts closer, your knees tucking in.

A brash rap against the door startling you enough to lock your gaze on it. A muffled voice floats through the room but your body and mind are too unfocused to understand. A thump hits the door as you notice the shiny door knobs lock pointing upwards. A thug hits the door again, this time the door splinters and breaks off the hinges. A worried blond standing in the hallway. His gaze floats to you and his eyes widen, his face falling slack. He yells something down the hallway and rushes into the room. Pounding footsteps echo down the hallway and a long haired brunette emerges into the room, his visage taking that of the blond’s. His hand grapple with a towel and knocks half the bathroom items of the counter.

The towel brushes against you, the white quickly staining red and becoming sopping wet. The blond haired male wraps his arms around you and scoops your form out of the bathtub, all the while your brain still trying to crawl out of the desensitization its coated in. Your soaking body is placed on a cold surface as the brunette tears through the medicine cabinet. Someone is finally pressing something to the wound to staunch it.

Your eyes lock with the two males in front of you. “What happened?” They both share and look before leaning into your sides and wrapping a fresh towel closer to you.

“Nothing.”


	4. Externe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter Soldier borrows his children, Reader looses their favorite book.
> 
> Bathroom incident is revisited, Reader hates their dinner and also themself.
> 
> James and Reader speak Romanian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay second time writting this;
> 
> I saw civil war on saturday, please go see it. I am no longer whole as a human being. 
> 
> My three current series will carry spoilers, but probably not for the next 3 weeks since if takes me about 3 to write a chapter. This story will have more Bucky spoilers than anything. Also: of you saw the movie you can guess why reader chanta the single word.
> 
> Also; school wraps up in about a month for me.
> 
> And this story is progressivley getting more gritty and dark; sp of thats not your cup than this probably isn't going to be your favorote thing to read. /also; how tf did civil war manage to nab a pg-13 rating/.
> 
> Romanian Translations are going to be in the end notes. I don't speak Romanian so I used a translator that wasn't google. So there is some credibility in my translation, hopefully.

_A splintering noise echoes from the apartment next door followed by screaming. Looking to your brother you shrug before turning your attention back to the book in your lap. A sudden set of hurried footsteps come up behind you. Your mother._

_“James, take your sister and hide in the bedroom.” Your mother is standing by the doorway nervously, a baseball bat in her hands._

_James nods and stands, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Dropping your book on the bed you follow him as her crawls beneath the bed and curls up in a ball. Your knees tuck into you chest with a small cracking noise from your knees. After injuring your knees they never really heal. You angle yourself at the end of the bed to watch your mother. However, James grabs you and turns your body to face him, you head nestled in his chest; both of your bodies oriented with your legs at the end of the bed. Your breathing catches in itself, a sudden splinter from the door being busted open freezes both of you._

_A shout comes from the living room along with another splintering noise, most likely the baseball bat being broken. A clicking and whirring noise echoes and the shrill scream of your mother follows. Squeezing your eyes shut you try and cover your ears. Loud thumping footsteps echo around the living room, along with thuds from furniture being flipped over. A sudden shriek is silenced with gargling in the living room. Tears flow down your cheeks and you squeeze your eyes tighter. Silence coats the apartment except for the floorboards creaking under the weight of footsteps. Opening your eyes a hand latches onto your ankle yanking you from the bed. Screeching in horror your body is ripped from James, his eyes wide in terror._

_Flipping onto your back you thrust your arms up to attack the person handling you only to be stopped and tucked under his arms. Wriggling around in defiance you try to get your arms or legs wherever they can. The man ignored your struggling and reaches his left arm under the bed and flips it completely off the floor; sending it sailing through the window and getting lodged. Your brother stand on his feet, his eyes glancing behind the man and his entire face becoming ghostly. Charging at the man he yells out a string of words you’d only heard from your mother when she was frustrated. The male grabs your brother with his left hand and pins James arm behind James’s back, stopping him. Grappling with James he tucks your brother under his arm like you are, a child on each side._

_Looking around the male hums before turning and making his way back into the he main area of the apartment. Looking up your eyes land on the form of your mother. Red flows from the wound on her chest, saturating her dress and the floor beneath her. Your body feels as your own blood has drained from it, everything becoming limp and stopping your struggle. Tears flow from your eyes once more, silent whimpers and cries echoing around in your head._

_Outside the book you had once found interest in lays in a puddle. The pages soaking up the rain from the puddle it rests in. Thunder rumbles in the distance before the skies open up and rains buckets upon buckets._

\-----

“You need to be more careful.” Your father’s adept fingers are wrapping gauze around your wound.

You shrug and look away, “Sorry.”

He sighs and kisses your temple, “Just be more careful in the future.”

“Do you mind me asking you a question?” You look up and Steve is kneeling in front of you. Shaking your head you answer his question.

He smiles and he kneels, his hand grasps your right knee, some sort of comfort method. “How did you manage to cut your shoulder?”

“I dunno,” You shrug and gaze down at him. “I’m just as confused as the rest of you.”

His hand tightens on your knee before glancing at Bucky. “I think it might be time to start you counseling sessions again. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

You stare at him before shaking your head. “No way, not again.”

“But it works, you know that.” He stares at you, eyes swelling with worry.

“No, it doesn’t.” Your words sound hasty and angered, “You guys want to think it works. Nothing works after what I saw or did, even if I didn’t do half as much as James or Bucky.” Your hands ball themselves up into a fist. “I saw everything that went on. I remember it and I can’t ever fucking forget it. I can’t go to some bullshit therapy and act like everything's okay.”

Steve sighs and closes his eyes momentarily, “I’m not- we’re not suggesting you go back to just act okay,” his hand tightens it’s grip on your knee, “We want you to get better, I’m sure Sam will let you take your time.”

Your hands ball up into fists. “No, I’m not, I’m not going back. I don’t care who you take me too.” Sam's a great guy, but not when you relapse, no one is. “Just. . . please drop the subject.”

Steve sighs and stands back up, “Fine, but you’re going to do something about this.”

Bucky grabs Steve’s shoulder and nods to the door. Steve nods in silent agreement before they both walk out of the mini-apartment housed within the new compound.  
Your interest shifts to the buzzing tv, the noise droning on around you. They were right, you knew that. The feeling of wanting help, the knowledge of needing it, and the action of actually receiving it were all different things. The nagging voice in your head agrees with your desperate need for help, but the built in protection you had built up over years prevented you from reaching out. Standing you head back to your room, silently shutting the door behind you.

Cornflower blue eyes peek around the corner, short, mussed hair brushed to the left side. Sighing his body turn for the door, feet carrying him to the one person he needed to talk to. His hand grabs the cell phone from his pocket and looks at his most recent text. Heavy feet carry him to the location, “Sam?”

The other male turns, his hand placing the file back onto the table. “Yeah?”

James’s hand wave the cell phone around, “‘S why I texted you.”

“You wanted to know where I was to talk?” Sam’s arms cross his chest.

A small nod answers his question, “I don’t need to talk. I want you to talk to someone.”

“Which Barnes is it this time?” Sam’s eyebrow lifts.

“Thr-,” James pauses before fixing himself, “[Name],”

Sam stares at the male in front of him before nodding. “She refusing to talk again?” He gazes at the other male before continuing. “What happened this time?”

James shrugs, “Dunno, I just know it’s something to do with her hurting her arm in the bath. She must’ve relapsed and zoned out, dunno.” He looks into a corner of the room, eyes unfocusing. “One and Steve were all freaked out over it.”

Sam notices the second reference to the former names, “Alright, I’ll work something out.” He walks towards James, “You should talk to me again soon, you called them Three and One again.”

James’s vision returns to focusing on Sam, “Yeah, of course.”

Sam sighs, “I may act like I don’t want to worry about you three in my personal life,” He pauses, “But when I notice something is wrong I will not think another second about trying to help.”

James nods and turns to leave the room, “Thanks.”

\-----

Family dinner is as always held on weekends. Everyone piled into the grand dining room of the compound. Some are missing, out on missions that couldn’t be avoided. Your fork is grasped between your fingers, absentmindedly pushing peas back and forth of the plate. James sits next to you, his hand grasping your other hand under the table, thumb running over your knuckles. Usually you would say something, however, tonight was a strange night for the both of you. Lingering from the past and clinging to you both, something you couldn’t distinguish.

You can see both of them glancing at you from their spots, two pairs of blue eyes keeping hawk watch over you after the morning incident. Another pair of eyes join them, you can tell who it is immediately. A pair of brown eyes casually glancing at you from now and them. You raised your head and glanced back at Sam, glowering to get him to drop it, leave you be. However, the eyes still linger. Sighing you break your hand apart from James, his head turning to face you. Placing the fork down on your plate, you sigh and stand up. Pushing the chair in your begin to walk from the room.

“Are you okay?” It’s Steve.

You nod and look back at everyone, “Yeah,” You pause and finish your sentence. “Just tired.” You walk back to your shared apartment area with the rest of your family, plus the blond super soldier. You wobble your way into the bathroom, fingers brushing against the walls. All that fills the silent room is the whirring and clicking of the metal plates creating your legs.

Your hand brushes against the cabinets before pushing down onto the sink rim. Glancing up your eyes soak in the image in front of them. Knotted hair dangles across your shoulders, weepy eyes always taking a second to flicker around the room for immediate danger. The shape of your face almost mirrors your fathers, however your nose slopes gentler than his, the dimple on your chin not as prominent. Your jawline is nowhere near as severe as his, it rounds out rather smoothly in places. Your fingers fumble over your face, fingers shaking unsteadily as they brush over your lips.

Your feet carry you to the toilet, your body slumps down onto the closed lid. Your head hangs, hair dangling into your vision. Your fingers brush across the matching knee plates. Both donning a red star, the same as your fathers. Your fingers trace the pattern over and over, jagged lines becoming smoothed out as it becomes a sloppy, monotonous job. Your skull pounds, head throbbing in pain. Your hand wavers before reaching to the counter next to the toilet, hand opening the drawer and pulling out a razor blade. Your hand grips the sharp item and holds it up to your hair beginning to haphazardly take chunks out of the length. Tangled hair flutters to the ground before your hands move downwards, resting against your knee plates. Taking the blade your hands begin to etch at the stars on both legs. You mstop momentarily to gaze at the the scarred tissue around the right knee, the leg where the metal only came up to your once human knee. “Book. . . book. . . book. . .” The word tumbles from your lips in repetition.

The noise of footsteps enter the room, stopping halfway in. “Oh,” The person stops and stares, you can feel it, the sensation tingling across your skin. Then they’re walking again and kneeling in front of you. Their hand is gripping your own, forcing the blade off of the metal plate. Their hand curls around your own and rips the blade from it, placing it on the counter. “Oh, sora. Ce ai facut de data asta.” The person mumbles in Romanian.

“Rezervaţi. . . carte. . . carte. . .” Your tongue slips into the language as if it was your first.

Their hand is brushing against your face, “Trei, nu mai exista, vă rugăm să vă opriţi. Ai're în siguranţă, nu există nici o carte de mai. Nu mai rezervati.”

Your eyes tear up and head shakes, “Vă rugăm, două,'s încă nu există în capul meu. Acestea're încă în capul meu, vreau să-i dus, nu mai pot face acest lucru.”

His arms embrace you, pulling you from the porcelain and into his arms. “Trei, acestea nu vor fi niciodată complet plecat, vă rugăm să ascultaţi unul şi Steve, acestea sunt oferind nimic dar ajuta. Aceasta nu este cum ar trebui să trataţi cu prioritate trecutului nostru nu este cum ar trebui sa fie lupta-l. Mai ales nu tine, de-abia le puteai chiar funcţiona suficient pentru a face rau unui zbor. Dacă oricare dintre noi merita fericirea este tu, sora.”

Your eye grow even more weepy as you cling to the flesh and blood of your twin. His strong hand encasing you in the gentleness he has always somehow carried. He shouts something into the rest of the apartment as he stands, carrying you with him. There was something wrong, something that not you alone could fight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Chapter Title: Foreign
> 
> "Oh, sora. Ce ai facut de data asta." - "Oh, sister. What have you done this time."
> 
> “Rezervaţi. . . carte. . . carte. . .” - "Book. . . book. . . book. . ."
> 
> “Trei, nu mai exista, vă rugăm să vă opriţi. Ai're în siguranţă, nu există nici o carte de mai. Nu mai rezervati.” - "Three, no longer exists, please stop. You're safe, there is no book. No more book."
> 
>  
> 
> “Vă rugăm, două,'s încă nu există în capul meu. Acestea're încă în capul meu, vreau să-i dus, nu mai pot face acest lucru.” -  
> "Please, Two, I do not want it to exist anymore. They're still in my head, I want it to stop, I can no longer do this."  
>    
> “Trei, acestea nu vor fi niciodată complet plecat, vă rugăm să ascultaţi unul şi Steve, acestea sunt oferind nimic dar ajuta. Aceasta nu este cum ar trebui să trataţi cu prioritate trecutului nostru nu este cum ar trebui sa fie lupta-l. Mai ales nu tine, de-abia le puteai chiar funcţiona suficient pentru a face rau unui zbor. Dacă oricare dintre noi merita fericirea este tu, sora.” -  
> "Three, they will not be ever fully gone, please listen to One and Steve, they are offering nothing but help. This is not how we should deal with our past it is not how we shoukd fight it. Especially not you, you could barely even function enough to harm a fly."


	5. December 16, 1991 *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CIVIL WAR.
> 
> \----
> 
> Therapy begins again for Reader, a reflection of childhood.
> 
> December 16, 1991 is brought to memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate translating especially when I know it's wrong, tears.
> 
> From the point on this story is going to include MAJOR spoilers, further spoiler chapter will be marked with *. So please don't spam me with comments like "OMG YOU RUINED THE MOVIE FOR ME!!!1111" please don't, I've given you fair warning.
> 
> Also, I have a crap for all memory and I can't remember exactly the order of the beginning flashbacks of the movie/the deaths. So I did it in a way that makes sense to the plot of the story. Also, poor reader, i hate myself for what I'm going to have to write next. I have a really decent backstory for how Reader and James got reunited with Bucky and stuff, but that will be later. It's also makes no sense but also all the sense, so eh. 
> 
> Also, I know I broke my regular updating schedule by going out of order of my stories. However, I just really need to flesh out Saturated. before I forget my ideas. Rip.
> 
> ALSO I TOTALLY CALLED THE USAGE OF ONE IN THE MOVIE. Nah, just kidding, I just needed an effective way of naming Bucky, James, and Reader since they obviously wouldn't be referred to as names as that gives them an identity so. 
> 
> Have fun reading! Also, if you always read my long chapter notes then you are the bomb.com. 
> 
> Translations at the end like usual, even though they are most definitely not correct, I try. Sorry ;-;.
> 
> Final note; #James'Plums'Barnes. That is all, well besides the fact that plums are actually the best fruit ever, like go Bucky.

“Plums?” Sam’s head looks up from the tablet he was taking small notes on.

You nod, “Plums, that’s all James and I used to eat.”

Sam writes something in shorthand, “Why plums?”

You shrug, “Easy to find, cheap-ish.”

“I thought your mother worked at a diner?” He looks at you questioningly, “Surely most of the money went towards rent and not enough to spend on ‘cheap-ish’ fruit.”

“Aunt Peg,” you pause, “she helped pay for rent since she shared the apartment. Howard gave her an extra salary too, since she did most of the SSR work and wasn’t paid fairly compared to the male income.”

“How do you know all of that if you were only about five when you were taken?”

“HYDRA made me do most of the profiling since I was so opposed to doing the dirty work, I had to be out to use since they knew they couldn't kill me after putting so much work, they had already replaced my legs, already wasted serums. They also knew killing me was to much of a risk that Bucky and James would revolt if I was ‘euthanized’.” You gaze around the room, “Even if there was no memory linking us together there was still an underlying bond between parent and child, and siblings that can’t be severed.” You chuckle and shake your head. “Their biggest mistake was training us all together.”

His hand writes the shorthand at a rushing pace. “HYDRA had profiles on Agent Carter and Howard Stark?”

“Mostly Howard,” you grip the bottoms of the chair, nails digging into it. “He was the only threat they saw between the two of them. Agent Carter was mainly only profiled because closer relations to Steven Rogers.”

Sam stops writing and glances up curiously. “Hey, you okay?”

Your head snaps in his direction, “Huh?”

“You suddenly switched to calling ‘Aunt Peggy’ Agent Carter and ‘Steve’ Steven Rogers.” He stares at you.

“Mhmm. . .” Your eyes bounce around the room. “Fine.”

“What about Howard Stark.” He places his tablet down.

“What about him?”

“How was he involved in your life when you were younger?”

“He,” you close your eyes, “He was there. I met him before. He was closer to Peggy than my mom. He was sad because Steve was dead. Felt some remorse for Bucky too, since he knew him.”

“Is it safe to say,” he leans forward in his chair. “That everyone close to you as a child was only there because they felt remorse towards your family?”

“I’m done for today.” Your nails dig even further into the chair.

“[Name],” he stares you down, you can feel it. “Answer me.”

“I don’t know okay? Probably fucking so. My dad was a KIA WWII soldier, and Steve Rogers’ best friend, so what do you think Sam?” You stand and the chair flips over. “What does your all knowing insight think?”

\-----

_“Stay on the hill until the signal, Two and I will take care of the rest.” The eldest male hands the bag to Two._

_Two grabs the bag and straddles his motorbike. Driving down the hill he hides in the bushes, waiting for the car to come down the dirt road. One glances back at you before thrusting the sniper rifle into your arms and leaving for his own motorcycle. You crouch down and lie against the dirt, trees and shrubbery hiding the cliff. You place the rifle on the stand before leaning up to the scope. An engine bursts to life around the corner, the car's two occupants returning home. Your finger hesitates above the trigger before you fire. The bullet misses completely and burrows itself into a nearby tree. Your body tenses before you see the car swerve and careen into another tree. Sighing in relief you slide down the embankment, knee plates locking into place as you stand. You approach the car as the two engines roar to life and approach as well. You head for the trunk, One the driver and Two the passenger. You jump and land on the trunk, denting it and quickly smashing your feet through it. Your hand reaches inside and grabs the briefcase. There's screaming but it is long ignored, your mission is complete. A gargling to your left catches you off guard before you look over. A man with white hair is leaned against the car, one hovering over him. Hos words are choked out but you hear them clear as day. “Sergeant Barnes.”_

_Your mind shifts into overload, scanning through anything that may be left  
In your blendered head. A single memory resurfaces, a man with brown hair and kind brown eyes if laughing, standing next to a younger looking Two. Yourself if laughing and racing towards the duo, waving something around. This white haired man wasn’t just anyone, it was someone you knew. Someone from the past who would never stop haunting. The briefcase in your hand seems to grow an insurmountable weight._

_\-----_

_The return to the base is quiet, the handler had come to retrieve and supervise cleanup, lower ranked lackeys retrieved the motorcycles. “You’ll be returning to Siberia within the morning.” He pulls the car over and turns in his seat. “Three, hand over the briefcase.” Your hand tenses around the handle before handing it over to the male. His smile turning up wickedly and he places it in the passenger seat of the transport van. “Good work,” he looks back at you again. “Your diligent work will be noted. However, One, Two, your work was leaning on the sloppy side.”_

_Your stomach churns, thinking of how you were the one who truly completed the messy work, your mark slipping completely off course._

_\-----_

_Your body shifts from foot to foot, shrill screams echoing around the room. “желание,” a decorated military officer announces. “ржaвый, Семнадцать, Рассвет,” he looks up before pacing. “Печь, Девять, добросердечный, возвращение на родину, Один.” He closes the book and holds it at his side. “грузовой вагон.” The screaming stops suddenly, people are rushing past you. One is standing once again, his face drained of anything, his eyes glazed over. He faces your direction, “Готовый подчиняться,” his words fall as easily off his tongue as the decorated soldier._

_The soldier who was standing with One now stalks over to you, “Три, Идите с мной, Я имею что-нибудь ожидающее вас.”_

_You nod hastily following after him. “Да, сэр.”_

_He leads you to another room in the compound, on the desk placed in the otherwise empty room you notice the briefcase. Inside blue IV Fluid packets rest. You look at the soldier curiously before following him to the table._

_“С тех пор как вы закончили вашу последнюю миссию так хорошо, вы зарабатывали награду.” He picks up a packet, “Новая сыворотка. Вы получили ваш последний так хорошо, не должны быть никакие осложнения. Обработка начинается завтра.” You nod silently and watch as he leaves the room, a feeling of dread pooling in your stomach._

\-----

“How did the session go?” James leans against the counter, a plum rolling around in his palm. Bucky and Steve are sitting in the bar stools, Sam just entering the room and placing his tablet on the counter.

“As okay as you can get with a former brainwashed assassin.” Sam flips over the protected on his tablet. “Acted erratic, formed tangents out of simple questions.” He glances at James’s palm before looking back at the tablet. “Got defensive and almost broke a chair,”

“What?” Bucky looks up and stares at Sam. “A chair? How did-.”

“Just stood up too fast without letting go of the chair first, the chair just flipped onto its back.” He scrolls through the page. “Made some progress by mentioning a HYDRA memory instead of just childhood ones.” He stops scrolling and looks up at the group. “I don’t know if they’re okay now, I left them after they flipped the chair and froze up, like they were reliving an experience. I think I can make some progress, but, there is never going to be a magical cure. All three of you experienced traumatic things but, from the way some of the things you've gone in depth to me about [Name], I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“Sam?” James looks towards the other male. “Is there any hope?”

Sam stands and leans over the counter, nabbing a cold coffee from earlier. “There’s always hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Trigger Words:
> 
> [Note: I searched these up on google and found them on a forum? I think that's what they're referred to as. So these are not my own translations/pronunciations. I was too into the movie to pay complete attention to the word. My poor baby Buck.]
> 
> желание (zhelaniye) — Longing  
> ржaвый (rzhavyy) — Rusted  
> Семнадцать (Semnadtsat’ ) — Seventeen  
> Рассвет (Rassvet) — Daybreak  
> Печь (Pech’) — Furnace  
> Девять (Devyat’ ) — Nine  
> добросердечный (dobroserdechnyy) — Benign  
> возвращение на родину (vozvrashcheniye na rodinu) — Homecoming  
> Один (Odin) — One  
> грузовой вагон (gruzovoy vagon) —Freightcar
> 
> Dialogue: 
> 
> [Note: These are my own /terrible/ translations.]
> 
> “Готовый подчиняться,” — “Ready to comply,”  
> “Три, Идите с мной, Я имею что-нибудь ожидающее вас.” — “Three, come with me, I have something waiting for you.”  
> “Да, сэр.” — “Yes, sir.”  
> “С тех пор как вы закончили вашу последнюю миссию так хорошо, вы зарабатывали награду.” — “Since you finished your last mission so well, you deserve a reward.”  
> “Новая сыворотка. Вы получили ваш последний так хорошо, не должны быть никакие осложнения. Обработка начинается завтра.” — “The new serum. You received your last serums so well, there should be no complications. Process begins tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave your thoughts in the comments! Thanks for reading!


End file.
